


Dead on Arrival

by Blanquette



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Christmas, Familiars, Fluffy Ending, Grim Reapers, Hospitals, Love at First Sight, M/M, One Shot, Reapers, Some Humor, people being weirdly okay with dying and being dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 15:35:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16813525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blanquette/pseuds/Blanquette
Summary: Kihyun meets a doctor, one Christmas night on the job.





	Dead on Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my draft folder for more than a goddamn year and I felt bad enough that I managed to finish it :'D  
> Tbh it almost didn't see the light of day. I really hope it is alright.

**1.**

“Dude, I think Dr. Hot saw us.”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“I'm not, he glanced at us. Or you. Whatever.”

“Are you sure it wasn't _through_ us?”

“Yeah. Now shut the fuck up, he's coming back.”

“Who the fuck cares, moron?”

“Excuse me?”

“What?”

Kihyun is sure that if he could see Minhyuk's dumbass serpent head right now it would be gloating. As it is, the parasite has draped his feathered body around his master’s neck and is expectantly staring at Dr. Handsome in front of them. Who’s staring back, looking mildly annoyed.

“I wasn't, I wasn't talking to you.”

The man waves at the empty hallway around them with a pointed smile and Kihyun cringes, a weak smile on his lips trying to hide his discomfort.

“Hard day at the office?”

“For you, or for me?”

“Me? I was talking to myself.”

Kihyun feels more than he sees Minhyuk turning an unimpressed stare on him. If the thing didn't have such freakishly short arms he probably would have been trying to slap him. Familiars weren't what they used to be.

“What are you doing here?”

“Does he see me? I think he doesn't see me. Hey, do you see me?!”

Minhyuk waves his little hands in front of Dr. Abs’ face as he screams, eliciting no reaction whatsoever, while Kihyun heroically resists the urge to force him back into his sweater.

“I'm with… Maintenance.”

“You have no tools. Or uniform, now that I think about it.”

“Keen observation, Dr. Sloan.”

“That's not my name.”

“I know. That was, you know. From Diagnosis Murder? The old TV show?”

“I don't get that reference.”

“Yeah, obviously.”

Minhyuk is back to limply resting on Kihyun's shoulders, observing the exchange with interest.

“Do you think it's possible to die from awkwardness? And like, I think he was thinking about you in uniform. Dude. Maybe he thinks you're cute. Ask him for his number come on do it do it do it do it do it do it do–”

Kihyun manages to punch Minhyuk off his shoulders while pretending to massage a crick out of his neck and feels quite proud about it for approximately twenty seconds. Until Dr. Sexy opens his mouth again.

“Anyway, you can't be loitering here, this is a hospital.”

“I am aware of this fact.”

The man is probably going to helpfully inform Kihyun of what a little shit he’s being when his beeper goes off. He spares a last look at them, annoyance clearly written on his features, before he storms out of the hallway with a huff. Minhyuk waves at him as he climbs back on his favorite perch, kneading Kihyun's ratty sweater to make it more comfortable.

“Huge car crash dude, I think at least three are for us.”

“Yeah, I know. How could he not know Diagnosis Murder? There's Dick Van Dyke in it.”

“Maybe he actually got over it and moved on from the Dyke, you know. Also nobody watches that anymore. It is old. Very old. You’re old.”

“You don't just ‘get’ over Dyke.”

“Man, people are dying.”

“I don't see your point.”

“I meant that literally.”

“Oh shit, yeah. Sorry.”

Kihyun turns around in the direction Dr. Nice Ass has disappeared to, perusing a little notebook he gets out of his back pocket, four names written on the first page in a neat handwriting.

_Kim Dawoon, DOA_

_Choi Dongcheol, 11:29_

_Shin Minah, 11:37_

_Jeong Chan, 11:48_

A little disappointed noise makes him look up at Minhyuk, who’s staring at the notebook from his perch on his shoulder.

“It's four, I lose. Dude, how sucky is that to die on Christmas Eve?”

“It’s sucky to die any day, not especially on Christmas Eve. It’s just a holiday manufactured to sell you things.”

“Sometimes you bore me to death, you know that, Kihyun? You’re boring. You’re a boring, know-it-all, pathetic motherfuck–”

Minhyuk’s words drown in the chaos that engulfs them once Kihyun pushes open the last pneumatic doors to the operating unit. He weaves gracefully between the nurses and the doctors hurrying past, neither seen nor heard, a small song on his lips. He’s looking for the one room he needs to be in. The only room not full of doctors, at the end of the corridor, a body on a gurney covered by a white sheet.

A young man is sitting cross-legged on the floor when Kihyun enters, wide eyes staring off into space.

“Kim Dawoon?”

A slow nod, and no further reaction when Kihyun sits next to him. As Minhyuk gets off his master’s shoulders to settle in his lap, Kihyun sighs, putting a comforting hand on the kid’s arm.

“My name’s Yoo Kihyun. I came to get you. It’s gonna be alright.”

“I was getting home for Christmas.”

The kid’s voice rings hollow, as he keeps his eyes on his own body, resting under its shroud. Kihyun nods, playing absently with Minhyuk’s feathers.

“I’m sorry.”

“What is going to happen to me, now?”

Kihyun shrugs, looking back at the young man. The kid is staring at him now, and he looks young, too young to be sitting there, cold hands and still heart.

“To tell you the truth, I am not sure. I was never allowed to see, what there is beyond. I just take you to the threshold. But I know it is going to be fine, for you. You are a good kid.”

“I tried my best.”

“You did well. You’ll be missed.”

“I guess I can’t… You know. See my friends and my family, one last time?”

Kihyun shakes his head, sadly.

“No. I have to take you right away.”

The kid nods, and it’s another full minute before he gets up, brushing invisible dust from his pants.

“Okay. I will follow you.”

Kihyun grins, bright and reassuring, and it brings a fragile sort of smile to the kid’s lips. Minhyuk slithers out of his lap as his master gets up, feathers catching the electric light of the room, golden hints growing in intensity as he moves. Kihyun extends his hand, nodding for the kid to grab it. His fingers still have some lingering warmth; life always took too long leaving young bodies, unwilling and full of regrets. Kihyun is there to make sure nothing remains.

He starts singing, soft words in an unknown language, something wistful but gentle, too, something celebrating a life well lived and mourning its passing. As Kihyun takes a graceful step the room behind them fades, swallowed by growing darkness. But there’s still light, golden and moving, Minhyuk’s bright feathers drawing a path they follow carefully, stepping where he stood as his light never falters. There’s a door, somewhere in the dark, and Minhyuk stops at the threshold as Kihyun extends an arm for him to regain his place on his shoulders.

“It’s here. You just have to open it, and go through.”

The kid hesitates, looking back at the darkness behind them. But there’s nowhere else to go, nowhere to hide and hope this was all a dream, and so he grabs the small handle and pushes the door open. When it closes on him, light explodes in front of Kihyun’s eyes, and he’s back in the hospital room, standing alone, Minhyuk curling around his neck. There is a few minutes of silence as the air settles around them, something intangible assessing what just happened; assessing the loss and the mourning to follow. Minhyuk shifts, then, pushing against Kihyun’s cheek with a tiny claw.

“We have three more to go, you know, you should get a move on.”

“I know. I will. Do you ever wonder what your door will look like?”

“I don’t think I can die.”

“Can I?”

“Didn’t you already?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember. If someday I do, I want my door to be like his. Small and simple, and welcoming. I want to know I did well.”

Minhyuk lets out a sigh, resting his head in the crook of Kihyun’s neck as he closes his eyes.

“You are doing well. You would do even better if you went to collect the others, though. Two have passed by now.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going.”

The door to the room falls shut behind them and Dawoon’s body remains there, alone and yet unattended, darkness slowly engulfing him. It is okay, though; his door was small, simple and welcoming. It opened on warmth and affection.

**2.**

“Hey, by the way, merry Christmas dude.”

“Oh, right. It’s past midnight.”

“What a night, uh.”

“Yeah, I thought that old dude would never stop screaming. Like damn, that will teach you to drive when you’re blind as a bat, now open your damn door grandpa.”

“He didn’t even like your song.”

“Right? Who doesn’t like my songs? Seriously.”

“He wasn’t going to a nice place.”

“Yeah, probably not.”

“The ring of fire around the door was a strong indication.”

“If a little tacky.”

Their laugh is cut short by a body falling in the waiting chair at the end of the corridor, and Kihyun looks on as a young doctor buries his face in his hands, exhaustion visible in the stiff line of his shoulders. Kihyun stares, sobered up, and Minhyuk slithers around until he finds a better vantage point.

“That’s the Dick Van Dyke hater. Do you think he still sees you?”

“I don’t know. How could he see me in the first place?”

“Well, you know, some people are more… Sensitive than others. Hospitals are strange places. Too much deaths, sometimes the veil gets thin.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Go talk to him, you’ll know.”

Kihyun chews on his bottom lip, staring as the doctor seems to sink in his chair, heavy and boneless. And so Kihyun peels himself away from the wall, stepping carefully until he’s right next to the man. The chair next to his is cold when he sits down.

“Hard day at the office?”

“You’re still here? Didn’t I tell you to scram?”

“Hey, I’m trying to be nice here. All sympathetic and shit.”

Half a smile threatens to break the seriousness of the doctor’s face and Kihyun thinks he looks good like this, all disheveled, trying and failing to regain his composure.

“Doing a great job at that.”

“Right? I’m a treasure. Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. I just…”

The doctor looks back in front of him, eyes downcast to the ugly linoleum floor, and he looks weary, a deep exhaustion etched into his bones as if centuries grounded him into dust.

“I just, I really hate Christmas.”

Minhyuk perks up from the back of Kihyun’s sweater where he burrowed for warmth, whispering in his master’s ear.

“Hey hey, tell him your verse about how Christmas is a holiday devoid of meaning manufactured by capitalist pigs, that will cheer him right the fuck up.”

Kihyun smacks him under the guise of rubbing his neck and the familiar disappears back into the sweater with a scandalized shriek.

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Sorry but, I’m not sure you do.”

“Everything terrible is worse on Christmas. I feel it, when I help people pass. They linger, they ask too many questions, it shouldn’t have happened now, I was going home, and… and it’s just, everything terrible is worse on Christmas.”

“Excuse me, when you what?”

“Hey, wanna see a neat trick?”

“What?”

Kihyun gets up excitedly, earlier words all but forgotten, and gropes at his sweater until he pulls out a still sulking Minhyuk.

“Come on, do the thing with the light.”

“You know that right now, for him, you’re talking to your own empty hands?”

“I don’t care, do the thing.”

“We’re not supposed to.”

“It’s Christmas, come on. Be nice.”

“They’ll box our ears.”

“Who? We haven’t seen anyone in how many years?”

“True, but still…”

A hesitant voice interrupts them and they both turn to stare at the doctor, who’s eyes are worryingly wide.

“What are you… Who are you whispering to?”

“Nevermind that, look!”

Kihyun throws Minhyuk in the air and scurries back to sit beside the doctor, pointing towards the ceiling. But the man takes too long to detach his eyes from the side of Kihyun’s face; it takes the latter pushing against his cheek for him to finally gaze up.

“Don’t look at me, look at this.”

Something bursts. Gold and silver raining down in the dismal corridor, flashes of red and blue lost amongst the shine. Something slithers there, through diamonds of light. Too quick to see, soft feathers and almond eyes, black and gold bursting with light and too many colors. So much beauty in such a dreary place and there’s tears in the doctor’s eyes, a smile on Kihyun’s face when he spots him, knocking their shoulders together.

“See, terrible things are always worse on Christmas, but the good things, they’re so much better.”

The doctor absently nods, eyes riveted to the golden light falling down on them like rain. He couldn’t tell how long it lasts, but it’s too short, surely, the last of the light disappearing in the blink of an eye, and if he could see him he’d know Minhyuk came back to curl up on Kihyun’s lap, tired out by his little trick, and he’d watch as Kihyun buries careful fingers in his soft feathers, a sign of gratitude.

“I… How did you do that?”

“Christmas magic. Don’t think too hard about it.”

The doctor smiles, something soft and shy, and he looks his age again.

“Thank you, I guess. It’s… it’s been a rough night.”

“Yeah, I bet. What’s your name?”

“Lee Hoseok.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Yoo Kihyun.”

“Yoo the Magnificent?”

A laugh, and it sounds strange and foreign in this place of quiet and death.

“I like the sound of that. The credit isn’t entirely mine, though.”

“Something else I shouldn’t be thinking too hard about?”

“You catch on quick.”

“Alright, keep your mysteries.”

They fall into a companionable silence then, Kihyun humming a soft song under his breath as the doctor closes his eyes, and soon, there’s a heavy weight against Kihyun’s shoulder, Hoseok’s breath brushing the soft skin of his neck. The doctor is fast asleep, and Kihyun shifts slightly, angling himself more comfortably for him to rest.

“Minhyuk?”

“Mh?”

“Do you think we can stay here for a bit?”

“After that show we put on I don’t think it really matters anymore.”

“Good.”

The familiar’s eyes fall on Hoseok’s face and the usual mischief of his features leaves place to something softer.

“Yeah, good.”

It’s not long until Minhyuk too falls asleep, as Kihyun keeps singing strange words for them, gently stroking the golden feathers of the familiar in his lap. Watchful, always, and it would be nice if this night did not end.

It does, though. It always does, the first light devouring the darkness of Kihyun’s refuge, painting his skin in hues of pink and yellow.

“Minhyuk. Minhyukkie, we have to go.”

“He’s still sleeping, though.”

“Yeah, and he will wake-up, and he’ll think all of this was a dream, and it will be a good thing.”

Minhyuk doesn’t look convinced as he shifts in Kihyun’s lap, fluffing his feathers.

“Would it?”

“No one should know about me. About us.”

“I know. But it’s Christmas.”

“Nothing’s different on Christmas.”

“It is. You said it yourself. Good things are better. Bad things are worse. I think we should stay. How long has it been, since anyone saw you, besides the dead?”

Kihyun smiles, slicking back the feathers of Minhyuk’s serpentine head as the latter preens.

“Too long.”

“See? It can be your gift.”

Kihyun shakes his head, a sad smile stretching his lips. Minhyuk hates it.

“There are rules. We already broke too many. Let us go, Minhyuk. Nothing’s different on Christmas.”

**3.**

A shift, and it’s cold, suddenly. Hoseok opens his eyes on an empty corridor and something’s missing, he knows something is, but dreams are fading in the rising light and he cannot chase the elusive face he sees dancing behind his eyelids.

There’s a distinct feeling of loss, something gold and silver coiling between his ribs.

He stays on the cold chair, staring at his hands. Something’s missing from the empty space below his heart. Something’s missing.

**4.**

He tries, over the next few weeks. He tries to remember what it is, that’s missing so badly. It is there in his dreams, he knows, something soft and golden, flashes of light and a clear voice. It is always gone as he wakes, fog lifting from his overworked mind.

Weeks turn into months and winter fades, warmth coming back with the first blossoms of the season.

Something else too comes back. A face with sharp eyes and a softer voice, _I feel it, when I help people pass, they linger,_ gold and silver raining upon him, _Yoo the Magnificent_ , something serpentine amongst diamonds of light, a loneliness deeply felt, and he remembers. He remembers everything.

It doesn’t mean the loss is any less felt.

**5.**

“Are they purposefully sending us here on every goddamn Christmas?”

“I know you’re happy. You’re hopping to see Dr. Congrats On Your Face again.”

“As if you aren’t. You whined for three months.”

“Yeah, and who’s crying himself to sleep every night?”

“I’m not.”

“Sure.”

“Not every night.”

“If you say so.”

“Minhyuk.”

“Kihyun.”

A roll of his eyes, and Kihyun takes the pristine notebook out of his back pocket, resisting the urge to smack Minhyuk over the head with it.

“Damn, a car crash again? When are people going back to riding horses? That would save so many lives.”

“Is this gonna be your campaign speech for when you run for president?”

“I’m running for president?”

“A boy can dream.”

Kihyun abruptly laughs, almost dislodging the familiar nesting in his messy hair.

“Oh, we only got the one today. Oh. Oh, fuck.”

“What?”

Minhyuk straightens, peering over Kihyun’s brow to look at the little notebook in his hands. There’s only one name, in the same neat handwriting whose owner they have yet to meet.

_Lee Hoseok, DOA_

A heavy silence falls between them, Kihyun closing the notebook and putting it back in his pocket as if not having to look at it might erase what they saw. Minhyuk shifts, uneasy.

“Maybe it’s another Lee Hoseok.”

“Yeah, sure, let’s believe that.”

“Kihyun, come on.”

“This can’t be it.”

“Let’s go see. We have to.”

“Yeah. I guess we do.”

Time stretches on the way to the right room. Nurses and doctors, patients, rushing past them without seeing, and Kihyun wishes he could maybe disappear for good, find his own welcoming door, opening on a kind end.

But the door he pushes only opens on darkness and cold walls, three bodies laid out on gurneys, waiting. Everything terrible is worse on Christmas and he knows the third face, strangely peaceful, lines of worry and exhaustion disappearing under the stillness of death. A gasp escapes him and he can feel Minhyuk tightening his hold on his hair, hiding, maybe, from something he wishes wasn’t there.

“It’s you.”

Abruptly Kihyun turns around and it’s Hoseok, standing there, a strange sort of smile on his full lips.

“Yeah. Hi. Hello, I guess, what the hell happened?”

Hoseok glances at his own body, something wistful in his face. He looks even paler in death, washed-out, the light gone out of him. Kihyun hates it.

“I fell asleep at the wheel. It’s a bit stupid, as far as dying goes.”

“It’s fucking idiotic is what it is.”

A fugitive smile graces Hoseok’s lips before he falls serious again, gaze intense on Kihyun’s face.

“Is that what you meant by ‘helping people pass’?”

“You remember?”

“It took me a while, but I remembered everything. Why did you leave, that day?”

“I’m not supposed to be seen.”

Hoseok tilts his head, eyes sad; a sadness that isn’t for himself, though, as Kihyun comes to understand.

“Isn’t it lonely?”

“I have an idiot to keep me company. But… Yes, mostly, it is.”

Minhyuk raises his body then, and Hoseok gasps when he finally notices him, something like wonder in his face.

“I’m the idiot, nice to meet you. The name’s Minhyuk.”

Hoseok laughs, a warm sound out of place in this dreary room, and something stirs in Kihyun’s chest, something withered and forgotten.

“This is so mundane. Is this how it always goes? Hi, I’m Kihyun, welcome to death?”

“Kinda. I’m supposed to… I’m bringing you to your door.”

“My door? What happens when I go through it?”

“I don’t know. Naked frolicking in some sort of Heaven, maybe. Maybe it depends on what you believe in.”

Hoseok tilts his head again, and Kihyun has the sudden urge to come closer; he wants to feel Hoseok’s weight on his shoulder once more, his warm breath fanning over his skin. He wants to sing him something, a song that wouldn’t be a eulogy.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“What?”

“What if I want to stay here.”

“Why the hell would you want to do that?”

“I want to see the rain again. And hear you sing; that day it was… it was too short, you know. It was so short and yet it stayed on my mind. I found you in my dreams but you always disappeared in the mornings, until I managed to make you stay.”

Kihyun stands speechless, until Minhyuk shifting in his hair brings him back in the moment. Hoseok looks tentative, almost shy, as if he had said too much. And yet it is not enough; Kihyun wants to hear more, and yes, it was too short, way too short.

“But you can’t stay. Staying is against the rules.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t – I’m actually not… Okay, I don’t really know, but… You would be giving up a lot.”

“I am dead. It doesn’t feel like there is a lot left to lose.”

“You know what I mean. The door, and–”

“You said it yourself. No one knows what lays beyond it. But I know what is here, and that it enough, for me.”

Kihyun falls silent again, his chest feeling too tight for the warmth bursting between his ribs. Hoseok falters as his stillness stretches, mouth falling, brow creased.

“Was that… too much? I’m sorry, I…”

“No, sorry, just, shut up for a sec.”

Kihyun sinks to the ground, a hand pressed against his chest as Minhyuk slithers from his head down into his lap.

“Dude, are you okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just, it feels warm. I didn’t know it could still feel warm.”

Hoseok crouches in front of him then, peering into his face when Kihyun looks up, eyes searching.

“What’s wrong?”

Kihyun stares, hands buried in Minhyuk’s feathers for comfort, and Hoseok’s face is warm and open.

“If you stay, you might be stuck, forever. I don’t know how long it’s been. I forget. I forget a lot of things, and I… I didn’t know I could still… Did you really enjoy the rain?”

Hoseok nods, opening his palm up for Kihyun to take. He still feels warm, long fingers draping easily around Kihyun’s smaller hand, and it’s been so long, and Kihyun was so cold. Minhyuk slithers out of his lap, a brilliant shine in the dark. A trail of gold follows him as he rises and grows; when he closes his eyes, light bursts out of him.

Gold and silver rains down on them and Kihyun brings Hoseok’s hand to his face, pushing against his palm. Gentle fingers trace the line of his jaw, the slope of his nose and the hard ridges of his cheekbones, fall to his neck and the dip of his collarbones. Life is leaving and Hoseok’s fingers grow cold, but it is fine, it is alright, there’s a fire in Kihyun’s chest and it will sustain them both.

Hoseok kisses like the ocean breathes and Kihyun lets his feelings rise, closing his eyes on golden light.

**6.**

It takes three weeks for the notebook to appear in Hoseok’s back pocket. It’s smaller that Kihyun’s, but the cover is bright and lovely, a flower pattern covering it in its entirety. The scrawl inside is different, too, almost illegible at times, but the writer makes up for it with little drawings Hoseok assumes are meant to cheer him up.

“Did you ever try to write back?”

“What?”

Kihyun looks up from his resting place against Hoseok’s chest, hands stilling in Minhyuk’s feathers.

“If we see whatever they write in there, shouldn’t they see what we write, too?”

There’s a minute of silence while Kihyun straightens up, turning to face Hoseok. They’re hiding out in a nice apartment left empty for the summer, stretching half naked on a too wide bed like lazy starfishes.

“I seriously never thought about it.”

“You have a pen?”

Kihyun scrambles, Minhyuk falling out of his lap with a whine in the process. Kihyun’s victorious, the smallest pencil dislodged from the drawer of a nice end-table. He rolls back against Hoseok, watching as the latter opens his notebook to a new page.

 _Hello_ , he writes in a loopy handwriting, and they both stare with bated breath. Nothing happens for a while.

_Hello! I didn’t know you guys could write back! Nice to meet you!! I’m new!_

“Holy shit. Holy fuck. Seriously? My whole world just shifted.”

Hoseok laughs and Kihyun stills, staring. It never ceases to astound him, how bright Hoseok can be in their world of solitude and death. And so he stares, waiting for the laugh to subside so he can kiss him; Kihyun was never good with words but that he can do, infinite gestures of tenderness meant to convey the depths of his feelings, the warmth of the fire still burning between his ribs.

Hoseok pushes him back, giggling, and writes a few more words before lending Kihyun the pen.

_I’m new too, I guess. Let’s work hard!_

“You should write, too.”

“Mine scares me. Have you seen their handwriting? It’s all neat, and I never get any drawings.”

“Come on, you coward.”

Kihyun huffs, elbowing Hoseok in the ribs as he takes the pen from him.

_Hello_

The answers comes quick. Too quick, maybe, for Kihyun who has yet to adjust.

_Hello. Finally figured out you could write back?_

“Oh, I like them already.”

“Shut up, Hoseok.”

_Shut up. I’m Kihyun_

_I know. You stole a soul._

_Am I in trouble? To be fair, he’s the one who wanted to stay_

_You’re not in trouble. I didn’t report you._

_Why not?_

_I liked the rain, too._

_That’s it?_

_I didn’t want him to forget. I think he would have known, that something was missing._

_Are you the one who gave him his notebook?_

_It’s the only way for him to stay._

_I owe you a lot_

_Just do your job._

_Is that what I did, too? I didn’t go through my door?_

_Yes._

_Why?_

_I don’t know._

_What did it look like? My door?_

It takes longer, this time. Kihyun watches as lines take form on the paper, a careful drawing of a single door.

“What is it?”

Hoseok’s looking over his shoulder and Kihyun swallows hard, voice hesitant as he speaks.

“My door.”

“Your door?”

“You know. To whatever there is, after death.”

“Oh.”

Minhyuk pushes his head up from his nest of blankets, and Kihyun lowers the notebook for him to see.

“It’s small and simple. Welcoming, like you wanted.”

“It is. Yet, I didn’t go through.”

“Does it matter? You did well, Kihyun.”

Kihyun nods, closing his notebook on grateful words. He lets his body fall back, head pillowed on Hoseok’s chest, stretching his arms as far as they go. He doesn’t even span the length of the bed, a small dot lost on an ocean of sheets.

“Would you have known?”

“Mh?”

Hoseok sounds sleepy, fingers threading languidly in Kihyun’s soft hair.

“What they said, would you have known something was missing, if you had gone through and forgot everything?”

A pause, and the fingers in Kihyun’s hair fall to his face, tracing his lips, the line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, like they did, that time, in a dark room full of loss. Kihyun turns on his side, gazing up at Hoseok, and he looks good, like this, hair disheveled, sinking bonelessly into the mattress. He brings Kihyun closer to him, fingers ghosting over thin collarbones and bare shoulders, resting on the nape of his neck so he can kiss him, slow and gentle.

“I did forget everything, once. But I knew, yeah, I knew, and everything came back.”

Kihyun smiles, burrowing closer still, head buried in the crook of Hoseok’s neck. There’s no warmth left in their bodies, their touches burning cold, breathes of ice and no beating hearts. It is okay, though, they have a light that will never go out raining gold on their path, and there’s songs, too, and wide beds to lose yourself in; it isn’t so lonely, really, with laughter and too-neat handwritings, awkward drawings on thin paper. Kihyun likes it, like this, and it’s true, maybe it doesn’t matter, why he didn’t go through his door. He finds there was more, a body to fit himself against, someone kindling fire between his icy ribs. He did well, and maybe this too is some sort of Heaven.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks for reading!  
> Direct all grievances to:  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BlanquetteAO3)  
> [Curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/BlanquetteAO3)


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